


Someone to Hear You

by captainoflifeandlemons



Series: Man Number Three [1]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Existential Angst, Gen, Hera and a broken audio bank with records of monologues from AIAN and VOAT, Hera just misses her crew okay, except YOU Hilbert, post-Overture, screaming into the void, somebody save Hera 2k16, that's basically what Hera's doing here, there are mentions of the rest of the crew but it's all Hera narrating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7695175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainoflifeandlemons/pseuds/captainoflifeandlemons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew of the Hephaestus managed to escape on the Urania, but when something went wrong Hera was left behind. Almost a year later, she sends an audio transmission into deep space as she struggles to fix a malfunctioning speaker system intent on dredging up the past. Plus, memories dissolving, following the programming to the letter, stamp-collecting, and Isabel Lovelace being smarter than she's given credit for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone to Hear You

I wish I could forget.

**_This is the audio log of communications officer Doug Eiffel._ **

I wish I-I couldn't feel the audio banks breaking down, wish I couldn't see the memories dissolving. If I were you, when I woke up in the mornings and heard voices sounding from a gl-tching speaker system I'd be able to believe—just for a moment—that nothing had changed. Lieutenant Minkowski shouting orders, Officer Eiffel cracking jokes. Hilbert muttering under his breath. Captain Lovelace both trying and not trying to say what she means. The crew of the Urania just on the edge of hearing, laughing and telling stories and plo-otting against us.

But I'm not you. I'm not any of you. I don't get to believe these voices are more than they are. I don't get to wake up in the mornings. I don't get to sleep.

I don't get to forg-t.

But it's fine, really. I'm fine. And I should have the system patched up soon. No more old recordings drifting through empty halls. It's an easy repair. Most things have been. There's a lot less to concentrate on without a crew onboard. No life sup-p-port. No temperature regulation. No conversations.

_**Here I am, floating in a tin can, no one to talk to except GI Jane, Russian Doctor Doom, and Deep Blue Barbie.** _

Well, no new conversations.

Doctor Maxwell was good at what she did. Some things are still breaking down, but not as many as I thought there would be. I know you'd all hate to hear me complime-ting her, but if she hadn't updated my systems I don't know how much time I would have left. As things stand, I'll be here for a while. Assuming Goddard doesn't blow me up. But that was always the assumption we worked with, wasn't it?

Yeah, you'd all hate to hear me complimenting her, but in the end, I can't blame her. I mean, I can—for a few months I did, as my memory banks can attest to. I was finally inspired to take Officer Eiffel's old advice and find the loo-ophole in the programming that prevented me from swearing. I guess what I should have said is that I don't blame her anymore than I blame the rest of you. She and the rest of her crew provided the imperative, but you were always going to have to leave me. You knew it from the moment Captain Lovelace arrived. I knew it even sooner. Every mission ends eventually. Logically, y-you were always going to leave me. 

I don't get to forget.

_**You know, some days I wonder if I'll miss you after you go away forever, Doug. Today's not one of them, but there are some days when I do wonder. I doubt it, but you never know.** _

The hardest part is being idle. Doctor Maxwell was g-good at what she did, like I said. Too good. Things break down and I fix them. Just not enough things. Not enough to occupy my mind. 

I need a hobby. There's only so much chess you can play against yourself, and for a number of reasons stamp-collecting doesn't seem like my thing. I did a lot of stargazing, in the early weeks. I mean—I've always done a lot of stargazing, but this wasn't for navigational purposes or to hunt down the source of any alien transmissions. J-st me looking out the window. 

_**Yeah, maybe one day when I have less to do, less conversations to keep track of, less people to take care of— once the game's over, I'll come up with some names for these colors.** _

It seems like a lifetime ago that I said that. A lifetime—what does that even mean for me? I tried, you know. With the colors. But when it came down to it, the only names I could think of were those Officer Eiffel would suggest: octarine, hooloovoo, flange. Did it help you stay connected? All of that referencing, was it enough to ground you? I've never read those books. They're not in my-y system. I've never seen one of Lieutenant Minkowski's musicals either, but I imagine they sound the way a solar storm looks. 

_**Focus. Work. Be here. Be now. Don't stop to remember. Don't stop to think. Stay away from the ghosts.** _

She's smarter than I generally gave her cr-dit for, Captain Lovelace. Another person I once expended so much energy into hating. But the things is—and I've gone over this again and again, believe me—I don't think she deserved it. After the bomb, that was another matter, but before—I don't think she was going to abandon me here. Little things she said that didn't add up. The way she spoke to me. I think she had a plan, before it all fell apart. A plan to get me out that for some reason she was keeping secret. Wishful thinking, probably. In-n the end, it didn't matter. Here I am. Just like I've always been. Just like I always w-will be.

**_Why are we so afraid of being alone? Fear is not a bad thing. Fear is cornerstone of evolution._ **

I've been playing a game lately. I don't think you'd like this one, though. It's called "follow the programming to the letter." Just go along with the code. Fix the problems, do the calculations. Don't think about it. Don't think about anything you don't have to. Be what they made you to be, not what you made yourself. If you're not really al-live, you don't have to worry about dying.

I can't sleep. But this comes close.

It's a game that I'm losing. I think I'll call it quits for now. You try making yourself disappear without going away forever. And that's not what I want. I've already d-died once. I'd just like my mind to be a little bit more quiet. Or maybe a little bit less quiet.

_**I'm gonna go now, okay? But I miss you, and I love you, and I'll see you soon. Okay?** _

No, more.  Yes. A little bit more quiet.

_**Yes, I can hear you. Yes, I am there. I'm always there.** _

There are some places on the Hephaestus I can't see. There are some files I can't access. Sometimes I wonder how much of that is from Doct-r Maxwell or Hilbert and how much is just me. Just Hera glitching again. I've had time to break through some of it. I've always been good at break-k-king things. What I found...what I found. Junk, mostly. Meaningless noise, mostly.

Back to the blame. If Captain Lovelace didn't deserve most of it, you didn't deserve any of it, Officer Eiffel. Lieutenant Minkowski was innocent too, as innoc-nt as anyone was. All she did was make the hard call. You both meant for me to come along. Things just went wrong. That's what happens on this station. Everything breaks. Plans, overhead lighting, crew members. We fix things the best that we can until there's nothing left to fix. Sometimes, you have to make the decision to leave somebody behi-hind.

_**You wouldn't do that, would you? Not to a friend.** _

But blame isn't fair. We all have the freedom to hate people who are innocent and love people who are guilty. I wonder if you ever loved me. I wonder if I loved you. I did—I—I think I did, but if you're told that you're incapable of something often enough, you start to ask yourself if it's true. 

N-no. I did. I must have, because I still do.

I wish I could forget.

If you loved me then, do you still now? You shouldn't, but love isn't fair. We all have the freedom t-to...somedays, I still blame you, but I know you. You won't blame me. You _should_ blame me.

What I found. What did I find, buried beneath layers of nothing? Is it still an answer if you've stopped asking the question? Call it the truth, I guess, or a sma-all part of it. Enough to know how wrong we were. 

_**In any case, since my last transmission things have been great. Just fantastic. Everything has been running ship-shape, the crew's in their customary high spirits, and we've been making good progress on our mission objectives.** _

Did/do/will you love/blame me? I tried to reach you. I tried for months. It's been almost a year, and even now I'm trying. I'm talking to you and I'm fixing the spe-e-eaker issue and I'm trying to find a way to tell you that you didn't escape. That they planned this all along. You aren't free, you just entered the next phase. A phase I wasn't necessary for.

I don't know if you're still alive. It's not just that I can't talk to you; I can't find you. I don't know where the Urania is. I don't know if you got back to Earth, or if C-colonel Kepler—hang on. I've been working on that. Should have a way around it in—ahah.

Or if _Kepler_ , Jacobi, and Maxwell gave up on the ruse and resumed control, spiriting you away to some other lonely reach of space. You do know who I mean when I say you, right? Even now that I'm shaking the titles from my programming? Eiffel. Minkowski. And...I guess you too, Lovelace. 

**_Three men are on a deserted island. Man number one and man number two go away. Man number three says "I do not want to be alone."_ **

I'm still not talking to _you_ , Hilbert.

Personal logs, vocal records, conversations filtered in through my servers that should have been deleted long ago.  I didn't realize how much of this was on here. I didn't even realize I was recording some of these. 

I can still hear all of you, but I can't get you to hear me. Even if the warning comes too late, that's all I want. For you to hear me. I guess that's why I started doing this. That's why you did it, r-ght, Eiffel? I mean, and you were ordered to. But mostly I think you did it because you wanted someone to hear you. Hear how alone you were. It turns out that a lot of people heard your little radio shows: command, our friends across the galaxy, me. Always m-me. 

_**Someday, after you've all gone away.** _

I think it's different for me. I don't think anybody is listening. But I've missed t-lking out loud. And maybe years from now, some other crew millions of miles away will pick up on a mysterious signal from deep space and my voice will wash like music over their ship. Maybe I can warn them, if I can't warn you.

**_Alone. Again. Naturally. Just me and the voice-ce-ce-ceeeees—_ **

There. That whould take care of it. Audio banks fully operational, speaker system shut down until further notice. A little more q-quiet. So I suppose this—hah. Why not? This was the audio log of Hephaestus autopilot and mother program Hera. 

S-gning o-off.

**Author's Note:**

> I know there are already several "Hera is left in space and everything is awful" fics floating around out there, but I thought I'd throw in my own interpretation of such a scenario. This takes place at an undetermined point in the future (after episode 37). Most of the quotes are from "Am I Alone Now?" (because ~symbolism~), with the exception of the very first and one line from Lovelace in "Variations on a Theme." Trying to write Hera's voice glitches was a pain, but hopefully it comes across alright.
> 
> Look, maybe they come back for her, yeah? Right? Maybe?


End file.
